It's Kid Stuff
by StillThunder86
Summary: Splinter does his best, but who can predict their children?
1. Ego Boost

**Disclaimer: **Of course, it's a no go with the ownege an' all that jazz

**A/N**: Well, I'm a sucker for Splinter, so...

Ego Boost

Splinter often found afternoons to be quite pleasant.

Right after lunch, the boys had a quiet time for one hour. They were free to do whatever they wished so long as it was in silence. He hoped the exercise would accustom them to their own thoughts so when the concepts of meditation and stillness were introduced, they would not be completely foreign.

Leonardo and Donatello were lying head-to-head before the blank TV, propped on their elbows and coloring. Leonardo was slowly kicking at the air, straying a bit too far of the lines as he worked on a dancing circus elephant. Donatello, his ankles crossed and biting his tongue, was carefully filling in Spiderman's blue and red outfit. The crayons were spilled between them. Over the weeks, Splinter had been delighted to find they had worked out a system of hand gestures when searching for desired colors.

He smiled at his children, unnoticed, before leaving them to their projects. He padded around the couch and peeked over the armrest to check on Raphael. Quiet hour was harder for him, but he was getting better at waiting it out. He slowly traced his finger over cracks in the cement, his eyes drooping. Most afternoons he could be found at this post, in direct line of the clock on the kitchen wall.

At age five, he knew when the big hand was straight up again, he could search out his partner in crime. He and Michelangelo had learned to avoid each other during this time, as their interaction usually resulted in something (the coffee table, TV, or their father) being upended and time outs for both of them. But once the clock struck one, they were off again, tumbling and shouting and often dragging the other two into their wild play.

He glanced back over the living room, realizing he was one turtle short.

The youngest usually snuck in with Leonardo and Donatello when the coloring books appeared. Otherwise, he would thumb through Splinter's art book, making up stories of what the people in the paintings were doing. And every so often, the rat found him lying on the floor just grinning at the ceiling, though he could never fathom why.

Splinter peeked into the empty kitchen and frowned. Running an eye over the other three, he decided they weren't in any position to cause trouble. He went down the hall, pushed open their door, and felt the first thread of concern.

He went a little faster to check in his own silent room and all but ran to the bathroom, his eyes wild with fret. He threw himself into the bright light and a paw went to his chest in relief.

Michelangelo braced himself on the edge of the sink with his rear in the air, peering at his reflection between his knees. He gave a dangerous wobble and stepped down into the porcelain. He straightened and turned in a circle, trying to peer over his shell.

Splinter stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "Michelangelo?"

The young gaze lifted and brightened. "Quiet time's over?"

"Not yet. What are you doing?"

His smile faltered. "Nothin'."

The rat's ears flicked higher. "Are you lying to me?"

"No…" his eyes were huge with guilt.

"Michelangelo."

"Yes," his chin fell to his chest. Splinter waited. "I…I can't see it…"

The rat's brow rose high, unsure just where he was about to find himself in the conversation. "What can't you see?"

"My tail!" Mikey wailed. "Why ain't mine like yours? Yours is…neat!"

Splinter glanced back over his shoulder. His tail twitched as if it were self-conscious. He turned back to his son, battling against a laugh. Plucking his child out of the sink, he sank down on the lip of the bathtub. "Michelangelo, if you were meant to have a tail like mine, you would already."

"But I want one!"

"Well, that's a wish I cannot grant," Splinter said, hugging him close. "Just as I cannot have a shell like yours."

Mikey pushed against his chest, sullenly. "The guys all have shells, it ain't special."

Splinter jerked, taken aback. He had not expected this. Yet, why not? All his sons knew about the world consisted of themselves, their father, and what they saw on television. They did not yet know just how unique they were. He gave a gentle scoff. "I assure you, Michelangelo, you never have to worry about not being special."

"But Leo's so much faster than me, and Raph can knock me down, and Donnie…" his voice trailed off, at a loss to explain just what Donatello was. He shook his head. "But I ain't nothin' like 'em, so I thought, maybe if I had a neat tail like yours…"

"Is that so?" Splinter mused. He rose and set Mikey's feet back into the sink so he facing the mirror. "What color are my eyes?"

Mikey frowned. "Black."

"And look here," he tapped the glass so his son stared at himself. "What color are yours?"

"Blue."

"Do you know I have never known such eyes before?" Splinter grinned at his son through the mirror. "Not in anyone I have met."

Mikey tipped his head to stare, upside-down, at his father. "Yeah?"

"Nor have I ever heard such a beautiful laugh as yours. Or seen anyone who could cartwheel so fine. And when it comes to finding coins in the tunnels, who is better than you?"

"No one!" The young face broke into a proud smile.

"You don't need a tail to make yourself any more special, do you see?"

Mikey looked at himself closely. "I'm the best?"

"One of the best I know," Splinter said gently. "And who would know better than I?"

"I'm the BEST!"

Splinter blinked at the outburst and drew back as Michelangelo launched himself from the sink, landing with feline grace. "My son?"

He was ignored as Mikey threw open the door and bolted down the hallway. "Oh, Raaaaphie! Guess what Splinter tol' me!"

Splinter lunged after him, horror jolting through his chest. "Michelangelo, wait!"

"Guess who's the best of all of us? Guess! Guess!"

Thirty seconds later, quiet time officially erupted into chaos.

* * *

* And Mikey never outgrew it…

** It feels really random looking it over again. Did you like it, though? Fingers crossed.


	2. Strength

**Disclaimer**: TMNT are owned by Mirage, Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird

**A/N**: Thank you to you reviewers! This one is a little quieter than Ego Boost, but with the two who are in it…oh, well! I hope you still like it!

Strength

"Ah!" he fell against the cold brick, his dark eyes wide as he reached to squeeze his calf. Here was a first, the muscle had seized without warning. He let out a low hiss and dug his thumb down his leg until it loosened again. His eyes fell to the walking stick tucked beneath his arm (just in case), his breath shuddering with disgust.

He didn't need it.

Not for something as simple as getting a cup of tea.

His ears flicked towards the small room at the end of the hall, measuring the even breaths inside. Satisfied they were still asleep, he pushed from the wall and entered the living room. Three steps in and he went down again, this time catching himself on the low coffee table.

He snarled, bringing his fist down as quietly as his anger allowed. It had been over a year since Drako had shattered his leg in the Battle Nexus. The Daimyo's healers had done their magic and he had followed their therapy instructions perfectly, yet he could not escape the ghostly bites of the injury.

Once more, he glared at the stick he refused to use. It was loud, constantly tapping, tapping, tapping. He had survived so long relying on silence. He had raised his children to be silent. If he fell into the habit of using it, what sort of hypocrite would he be?

It was a sound his boys already knew too well and it brought them running when they heard it in the night, even if he was slipping to the bathroom. They would follow him back to bed, anxious and worried, until one by one they fell asleep on his quilt or on the floor. Their hearts were in the right place. But he remembered the night his own had broken when he realized they saw him as an invalid now.

Splinter ground his teeth as he looked to the dark kitchen. There was nothing for it. The end of the stick met stone and he hoisted himself up, hating himself for giving in. Hating Drako for handing him this tool of weakness. He prayed he was far enough away from Leonardo's sharp ears and closed his eyes against the first tap against the night.

His ears shot up, quivering, as he spun towards the dojo. It came again, the familiar sound of a blade slicing the air. A short, three tined blade.

The rat sighed and padded over to the black doorway, listening to constant swishing and light feet upon the mats. He hadn't noticed it in his fall and obviously his son was distracted enough to not have heard him either.

He could already picture his strongest son leaping and jabbing at the air, trying to extinguish some of his restlessness. A flicker of annoyance flashed through him. Working off energy with katas or workouts were one thing, but the fact that Raphael had ignored his rule on weapons, that was another matter. He had had countless talks with his sons about leaving their gear in the storage cabinet whenever their father was not present. How many times would he have to scold him on this?

"Raphael!" he snapped, flicking on the light.

He started at the reaction he got. First, because the frightened squeak which greeted him was not Raphael's. Also, he saw both weapons fly across the room with a glint. They slid over the mat and clattered, rather noisily, onto the stone sidelines. Splinter gaped at them, then looked to the child trembling head to toe with his hands behind his back. Light brown eyes were huge with terror.

"Donatello?"

The eight year old's frame shrank on itself and he dropped his face towards the mat. Shame crawled up his cheeks. Splinter frowned, made his way to retrieve the weapons, and returned them to the cabinet. He hesitated, noticing the tiny smeared handprint on the glass beneath his paw. Finally, he turned to face his son and eased into a kneeling position.

"Donatello."

His son hit his knees before his father, sweat-soaked hands twisting. Splinter tipped his head, pulling his walking stick to his shoulder.

"What were you doing with Raphael's sai?"

"Nothing, sensei."

The rat lifted his chin. "Truly?"

A shifty glance betrayed the young face and Donatello's fingers moved to tug at the bandage just above his left elbow. Splinter's eyes narrowed.

"This has nothing to do with what happened this afternoon?"

While he had been instructing Leonardo and Michelangelo, his other sons had been lightly sparring. At least, that is what he thought until a short cry had startled all of them. Raphael had backed away from his younger brother, wide-eyed, as Donnie held a small gash. When asked what had happened, Donatello had smiled, whispering he was just too slow. Raphael had watched him, frowning and wary and had fallen into an unusual silence for the rest of the session.

His son's eyes flickered and suddenly filled with tears. He muttered into his own shoulder. Splinter perked his ears. "What was that, my son?"

"I can't snitch, sensei."

The rat's eyes closed in dismay. He didn't know how his children had learned of snitching, but if he ever found the fool who had exposed them to such foolishness…Before that word had entered their lives, they had never been afraid to tell him anything. Now, he felt he had to drag their worries from them. Simple conversations became contests of will. It was shocking just how stubborn his four boys could be.

Especially this one.

"Is it still snitching if I promise Raphael will never know you told me?"

Donnie bit his lip.

"And if I promise he will not be in trouble? I just have to know what happened between you two."

Their eyes locked. Splinter felt the first foothold towards victory as tears finally broke free.

"He didn't mean it. He was just askin'."

Splinter eased himself forward, unaware of the gesture. "What did he ask?"

"H-he asked…if I k-knew why y-you…" the gentle voice cracked. "Why you don't trust me with a real weapon." He teeth clamped onto his lower lip.

The father's knuckles went white on his stick.

"Please don't be mad, sensei. He didn't mean to hurt…It's fine. It's nothing."

Nothing always meant something.

Splinter drew a breath and relaxed his shoulders, returning his gaze to his son. "I am not angry, my son. Not with you, not even with Raphael. I am glad that you told me of this, though I am also very sad that Raphael felt he had a right to…" He paused, studying his son closer, trying to read a face so well hidden beneath a mask of contentment. "Donatello, is that what you were doing? Would you prefer a weapon like Raphael's or Leonardo's?"

The small shoulders tensed. "N-no…I…"

He drew back, feeling a sting he was unaccustomed to. He had thought so long on choosing their weapons, thinking to reflect their fighting styles. Donnie's gaze was locked onto the walking stick, almost desperate. Splinter frowned.

"What is it?"

"I…I thought…"

"Yes?"

Donnie snapped his eyes upward, begging. "Please don't take my bo, father. I'll do better, I promise!"

"Better?"

"I'll…I'll polish three times a day and I'll replace the ribbon if it gets one tear!"

Splinter set his hand on the slim shoulder. "Donatello, stop. I will not take it."

"I like my bo…but Raph said his sai were better. I…I just wanted to see…I was afraid that he was right..."

"Raphael takes pride in his sai," Splinter said, gently. "He trusts in their strength. But steel does not make his weapon more prominent over yours. Do you want to know why I chose the bo staff for you?" He waited until he received a miserable nod. "Not because I sensed any sort of weakness in you or believed you could not handle a blade. Quite the opposite. You have no need of one."

Donnie looked up.

"You wield such power with such simplicity. You are lethal with a weapon of nature, not one forged of men. Yet, you choose to reign in your strength to disarm, not injure. That control is most impressive, my son. And I am so proud that one so young can tame himself so. You are so far from being weak, Donatello. I only wish you would allow yourself to believe that."

Fingers fidgeted at the praise. Splinter leaned in to kiss his brow, running a thumb beneath his wet eye. Donnie's arms flew upward, clinging to his father's neck. The rat returned the gesture, chucking him beneath his chin when they broke apart.

"T-thank you, sensei..." Donnie whispered, shyly.

"It is late. You should return to bed."

Splinter's winced as his leg reminded him of its presence, having stiffened as he knelt. He found a small, olive colored hand over his own, the other on his elbow. Donatello helped him rise and stepped back to gaze at him with the blatant adoration only a child's face can bear. His fingers slipped from Splinter's, hesitating on the wooden cane. His face softened.

"Good night, sensei."

With that, he turned and trotted from the room. Splinter watched him go. He ran his thumb over the place where Donatello had paused, wondering…

His eyes widened and he turned towards the cabinet, where his son's bo was propped opposite of Leonardo's sheathed swords. Past sparring lessons flashed before his eyes, where his sons were challenged to disarm him. He thought of their little faces filled with awe as he used a stick to overpower each of them. He'd never considered how they may have seen it. Seen him.

Donatello didn't want a different weapon. Because his was the closest to Splinter's own.

_I'll do better._

The walking stick rotated over his palm.

Drako's reminder of his weakness.

Donatello's assurance that he was strong.

Like his father.

The rat finally made his way into the kitchen, finding the tapping was not so loud as he had originally thought. After setting the kettle upon the stone, he eased himself into a chair, hooking his fingers over the top of his cane. He rested his chin upon the thin digits and gazed at the dark floor before him.

He smiled.


	3. Temptation

**Disclaimer: **TMNT are the property of Eastman and Laird

* Because Leo's had his slips before...

Temptation

"Don't step on a crack or you'll fall and break your back!"

Splinter watched his son cartwheel down the tunnel, his hands and feet avoiding every break in the concrete. He landed near a ladder leading up to a manhole and spun around, running back to his father. He scooped up his discarded salvaging pack and threw it over his shoulder, happily.

"Leonardo?"

His bright face flicked upward. "Yes?"

"Did you put sugar on your pancakes this morning?"

A rare mischievous smile appeared.

Splinter shook his head and whispered a prayer of thanks that Michelangelo had not developed his brother's secret vice. It was an odd one as Leonardo rarely had anything to do with junk food. But once the pancakes were divvied out, his were the only ones that looked like they'd been snowed on. And _crunched_ for that matter. The only time he'd been asked about it, he had simply announced he didn't care for the maple syrup and trotted out of the kitchen.

Splinter chuckled and patted his son's shell. "Well, what say we head home? Perhaps afternoon training will ease some of that energy, hmm?"

Leo grinned and took off again, all but skipping. Splinter watched his son with a glint of amusement. His eldest was often so solemn and strict with himself, he had to admit he enjoyed the times when Leonardo behaved more like the ten year old he really was.

They approached the ladder again, the final landmark on their path home. Leo was humming quietly to himself as his father mentally arranged the training session he would soon be engaged in. Michelangelo was getting sloppy on his footwork again and Raphael had been struggling to conquer his posture during the latest kata. He also had to work in some of the kicks Donatello hadn't yet…

He heard the steps above them just as they passed the ladder. His hand shot out, pushing his son backward against the wall as a bright crescent of light appeared on the cement before them. Splinter felt his fur leap in every direction as he angled himself to shield Leonardo, his sharp teeth gleaming as he glared up the ladder.

But it wasn't the voices of men that he heard from the cracked manhole.

"Henry!" a girl wailed. "You'll hurt yourself!"

"Yeah," mocked a boy, "don't do it, man. You don't have to prove anything."

He heard a grunt and the crescent slid wider. The last voice panted. "I said I could do it! I can lift one of these!"

Teenagers. Splinter eased himself back, judging his chances of sneaking past them without being spotted. He felt Leo shift to peek over his shoulder and took his son's trembling hand. The crescent grew into a half-moon and then became more of a circle. The metal cover squealed against the cement as the boy grunted and panted.

"Eeew, it stinks!" the girl said.

The struggling boy let out a shaky laugh. "Hey, Jim…If…if I can lift this bad boy, I dare ya to go…down there…"

Alarm bolted through the rat and he looked desperately down the tunnel. It stretched too far behind them. He doubted he could make it to an adjoining pipe if the boys descended. Would the kids hear them move from their position now? He doubted -

"You're nuts, Henry. I ain't goin' down there. There's sewer monsters, ain't there, Kristy?"

"Stop it, Jim!"

Splinter glanced over his shoulder at his son. Leo was biting his thumb, nervously.

"Fine…" Henry wheezed. "If you…wanna be a -" he gave a final heave and let out a scream. The cover crashed down and Splinter heard the thump of a body striking the ground.

The boy let out a screeching curse. Leo gave a faint gasp and looked to Splinter in shock. The rat stepped forward, worried.

"_Henry! Henry! Henry!_"

"My guts! My guts exploded, man!"

"Lift up your shirt! Let me see!" Jimmy added another profanity. "Kristy, is that a hernia? Open your eyes!"

"I don't know!" she whimpered.

Jimmy swore again. "C'mon, man! You gotta get up! I'll take you home!"

"My friggin' guts, Jim!"

"You gotta move!"

Splinter listened as the boy whimpered and grunted but finally appeared to gain his feet. The kids stumbled away, their voices diminishing. Splinter approached the bright light and strained his ears for a moment, looking up at the exposed buildings and sky, doubtfully.

Had he been alone, he would have been up that ladder and had the cover back into place in an instant. He felt Leonardo sneak silently against him. He shook his head and flitted across the light, sneaking a glare towards the surface. Humans had removed it, if someone was hurt, it would be on their heads, not his. Not when his child was with him.

He looked to where Leo was standing apprehensive.

"It's quite safe now, Leonardo. Come."

The young turtle nodded, licked his lip, and trotted forward. Sunlight spilled across his face and shoulders and he froze, his black eyes widening.

He stood illuminated by pure yellow light for the first time in his life. Of course he had seen sunlight before, but through the grates, never in one strong beam. Leo looked upward, his leaf green scales shining with the movement. The lines of his scrawny limbs became defined, hinting where muscle would soon harden. His teeth flashed as he turned his palms into the warmth as well, his eyes closing lazily.

Splinter smiled as his son swayed back on his heels and when his eyes opened again, they were smudged by sleepiness. The rat wondered at that as all trace of Leo's sugar high seemed to have vanished under the sun's spell.

A small hand extended and closed around a rung.

Splinter's smile vanished. "Leonardo!"

His son's neck snapped towards him, startled. Then he looked at his hand and snapped it back as if the rung had burned him. Leo jumped into the shadows, stumbling a little as he ran to his father.

The rat frowned at him. "My son, what were you thinking?"

Leonardo shifted from foot to foot, uneasily, as he searched for an answer. His gaze was inadvertently drawn towards the sunlight again and he couldn't keep the longing off his face.

"Leonardo?"

"I…someone may get hurt, sensei…"

The rat drew back, his nose wrinkling doubtfully. Of all his sons, Leonardo had shown the least interest in going to the surface, at least he had thought so. How many times had he heard his own lectures spouting from his eldest to discourage his brothers from even _imagining_ adventures in the outside world? Splinter had thought he had himself a strong ally in this matter.

But Leo could not pull his eyes from the sun.

"Indeed," he said slowly, startling his son once again as he lowered his sack to the concrete floor. "Stay here." Splinter sprang up the ladder, feeling a slight breeze drift across his whiskers. Reaching up, he slid the cover back across the opening, closing them from the sun once again. He made his way down where Leo kept his eyes on the faint rays spilling through the openings in the cover.

"My son, we are returning home."

"Yes, sensei."

They walked along in silence for a while, an unhappy turn to their outing. Leo's brow was puckered with concern and he kept chancing peeks backward, opening and closing his fist. Splinter watched his son, worry eating at him too. He knew he could not keep them from the surface forever. Leonardo's small grab for the ladder felt like the first falling stones in an avalanche.

It was time to consider bringing them to the world. He bit his lip, anxiously.

"Leonardo?"

"Yes?"

"You know why my rules are in place."

"To keep us safe."

"Yes." He paused and knelt, allowing his crushed son to stand at his side. Splinter's ears fell. While Leonardo was unaccustomed to being in trouble, whenever he did fall beneath his father's short-lived wrath, it followed him far longer than Splinter ever intended. He wondered how many times the young one would pass that ladder and avoid looking at the rung that had tempted him so.

"You did no wrong. But I want you to remember what you almost did. Your brothers will soon try to journey to the surface and I will need your help to discourage them. Or at least protect them if you cannot stop them."

In the gloom of the tunnel, he thought he saw something shift behind his son's honest face. Leonardo blinked and then dropped his chin in a nod. "I'll do my best, sensei."

A faint voice hissed in the rat's mind. _You old fool. You've given him a loophole!_

Because Leonardo would want to go too. Why would he stop them?

_You're being paranoid._

He patted the child's shoulders and gave him a quick hug. "Very good. I promise, my son, you will see the surface. I will take you there.

"When?" Leo asked as they started on their way again.

"In a year or two, when you've trained a bit longer."

"Oh," Leonardo wilted at his side. "I understand, sensei."

Splinter smiled in relief. "Thank you, my son."

Two months later, he found all four of them at the top of that accursed ladder, teaching a young boy how to defend himself.

No lectures had been given that day, only six hours of intensive training.

And as Splinter directed them into harder and harder exercises, he vaguely wondered when he should bring them to the surface himself. He stroked his lower lip as their shaking legs struggled to hold a difficult position.

He allowed himself a silent chuckle as sweat broke over Leo's temple and his balance began to teeter.

_Not tonight, my son._

_

* * *

_

* Is it just me or is young Leo like ridiculously hard to write? I had to give him a mild sugar high? Yeesh, this caused more trouble than it should have!


	4. Jump

**Disclaimer: **TMNT are owned by Eastman, Laird, and Nickelodeon

**A/N**: Holy crow, what happened to the last two weeks? Life attacked! Sorry for the delay, but it's finished! On to tween-Raphie!

* * *

Jump

Splinter rested his elbows on the edge of the roof, allowing the breeze to glide across his snout and cheeks. There would be rain later in the night, but his son of time to explore yet.

He was surprised how well the outing was going. For himself, there was a degree of enjoyment he had not felt on the surface before. In his younger years, he'd only taken the risk to venture topside in harsh winters when the sewer just could not support them. Back then, fear for his children had absorbed his energy. He'd never given his surroundings more than a passing glance in his haste to return to them.

Even when he had come to search for an appropriate place to introduce his sons to the world, the trip had been far from pleasant. Twelve years of secrecy and caution deemed harder to put aside than he had thought. He spent much of the first night within the shadows, edging out cautiously only to leap back at the slightest hint of trouble. In the end, though, he had found what he'd been looking for on the empty rooftops of New York City.

He supposed it was the overcast sky which made him feel more at ease than even his first trip with Leonardo. His eldest had been delighted at the adventure, too busy watching the traffic and practicing his vanishing techniques to notice his father's tension. And though the trip had been an uneventful success, the rat had been relieved to return to his familiar sewer tunnels.

His ears flicked as the shadow of his child joined him. He glanced up. Raphael already towered above him. True, all four of them had long ago surpassed him in height, but most of all was Raph. He was steadily inching past five feet and had to slouch to drop his arms onto the ledge. He peered past Splinter to watch the endless stream of cars beneath them.

"I fergot how huge it was…" he said with a sheepish grin.

Splinter dipped his chin. "Yes, it is quite large."

Raphael propped his chin on top of his folded arms, allowing the lights to dance across his eyes. Then, his gaze shifted to the sidewalk and bustling dots of humanity. His smile withered. The fingers peeking beneath his elbow curled into a fist.

Splinter frowned at the motion and lifted his eyes to the scowl he was seeing more and more. It troubled him. As a child, Raphael had been just as outgoing and fun-loving as Michelangelo. Now, as he neared his teenage years, his bright laugh had become rare, his natural aggression spilled out of the dojo, and he often clashed with his brothers. Especially Leonardo, seeming to find challenges and reprimands even when none existed.

He watched Raphael's eyes narrow at the people below, a deep-seeded jealousy sparking in his face. He set his hand upon the cool skin of his son's shoulder, drawing his attention from the street. Splinter gave him a small smile and cast his own frown at the crowd, baring his teeth a little.

Raphael leaned into his side. It was the closest thing the father got to a hug these days.

The rat lifted his nose. "Let them have their world, my son. Overcrowded and noisy and violent more often than not. They were given that domain." He gently turned the young turtle and swept his hand towards the silent rooftops. "But _this_ one will be yours."

He grinned as Raph stepped away from him, studying this new world of shadows, one he had never seen even on TV. A fierce smile of approval appeared and the young fingers trembled with excitement. "Can we go out there, sensei?"

"As to that," Splinter waved for his son to follow him behind some AC units. He pulled two boards from beneath the rumbling casings and set one down near the ledge. He paced out a distance and set the other into place. "First, we must perfect your jumping."

Raph gaped at him. "Yer gonna make me _train_? Sensei, I can jump just fine!"

"Underground," Splinter said. "In the safety of the dojo. And have you jumped from one building to another before?"

"No…" Raph scowled, looking at the rooftop closest to them. "But it don't look that far."

"That is what Leonardo thought," Splinter said delicately. "Until he made it about half the distance." He made a few adjustments to the boards.

"Leo couldn' do it?"

"By the end of practice he was considerably closer. You have to build your strength, my son. Train your muscle, understand just what force is needed in order - Raphael!"

He whipped to his father, smiling nervously. "I was payin' attention." The rat's eyes narrowed and Raph went back to judging the distance to the next building. "It just ain't that far. I could make it."

"No, Raphael. You can't just yet."

His red-banded son took a step back. "Sure can. Look, I'll show ya!"

"Raphael, wait!"

But he had already taken off. His feet slapped over the asphalt, he pushed from the ledge, and Splinter's heart stopped as his son soared upward, began to descend…

And disappeared between the two buildings.

"Raphael!" Splinter slammed into the ledge, terror clutching him as he searched the alley below. He panted, not seeing his son on the cement. His eyes lifted higher.

Hanging from the lowest ladder on the opposite fire escape, was a beaming Raphael.

He sung his legs, singing, "I made it!"

Splinter all but collapsed. He blew out a sigh of relief before fury overtook his brow. "Raphael! Get back up here this instant!"

Raph's smile deepened. "Yeah, yeah," he said as he began to climb the ladder sideways.

The metal groaned against his movement.

He froze, eyes fixed on his father in alarm. A breath passed the rat's teeth.

The ladder let loose. It shrieked and rattled as the young turtle's weight drug it down. Raph clutched the rungs, his head bouncing wildly. Then, years of rust and misuse screeched the ladder to a dead stop. Raphael was thrown to the ground, his shell cracking off the pavement.

Splinter was over the ledge, using his own fire escape to descend. He rushed to his son, but then noticed his shoulders were shaking. Raph's teeth flashed as he looked to Splinter, upside-down, laughing.

"How's that fer luck, sensei?"

"Raphael! That was the most…what on earth…you could have…"

His son tilted his head and watched him sputter into silence. Splinter took a breath and let it out through his nose. He folded his arms. "Not quite far enough, wouldn't you agree?"

Raph grinned and tucked his hands behind his head. "Yeah. Maybe I need a little more practice."

"I'm glad you acknowledge that," Splinter said, shaking his head. "Come, we're returning to roof."

Raph rolled to his knees and stood, following his father up the intact fire escape. "Sensei? You won't tell Leo I fell, will you?"

He glanced back. "I don't see how it would come up. Why do you ask?"

The turtle cleared his throat. "No reason."

In other words: _I'm gonna tell him I made it._

Splinter sighed heavily, helped his son onto the rooftop, and promptly rapped him over the head with his walking stick. Raph let out an indignant cry, which the rat ignored. "I hope you realize what a dangerous and ridiculous action that was. There was no reason for you to put yourself in harm's way just to prove you could do something Leonardo has not. Now, before we resume your training, I want you to promise you will think things through before acting upon them."

Raph gingerly rubbed his head. "Yeah, yeah. Sure, sensei."

"My son, this is serious. If you don't take your actions under consideration, the consequences could be disastrous. If anything ever happened to you…"

His speech faltered and he blinked, startled at the tightness in his throat. He coughed. "I could not bear the…" He coughed again and Raph's eyes widened. What was wrong with him? He'd scolded Raphael on his impulsiveness hundreds of times before.

He glanced at the alley beneath them. _It was just too close, my son. Can't you see that?_

Then, he felt arms wrapping about his thin shoulders. Raphael said nothing and Splinter allowed the silence to close around them. Raphael never responded to lectures and being scolded, at most he waited patiently as the words crashed against his chest and fell to his feet unheard. But he'd caught the fear in Splinter's voice, and that he responded to instantly.

And though they said nothing, Splinter understood what thrummed in his son's wild heart.

_Don't worry, sensei. I got it._

He wasn't sure what "it" was. The jump? What his father was trying to say? Life in general, perhaps? It didn't matter, Splinter supposed, for there wasn't the slightest trace of regret in his son's face. He doubted there ever would be. Raphael didn't bother with things like that. Not when it came to his own safety.

Oh, Lord, Splinter feared the teenage years.

* * *

* Ending was a little mushier than intended…oh, well! There it is, guys! I hope you liked it! Thanks, everyone! Please let me know what ya think! See ya around!


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